Fate Stay DxD: A Priest of Blades
by Xlerons
Summary: "How can you be a priest when you yourself do not believe?" "Now here's the thing Asia. I've always felt that the world is too cruel for God to exist. Now the idea of God, however, that is something I can believe in."


**Fate Stay DxD: A Priest of Blades**

Disclaimer:

Fate/Stay Night is owned by Type - Moon

High School DxD is owned by Ichiei Ishibumi

* * *

 ** _Chapter I - The False Holy Man_**

 _The smiling form of the Virgin Mary, a single, solitary, stained glass window within the dim, small chapel, illuminated by the sun's setting glow, shined soft colors down upon her kneeling form. She prayed, a well cared for bible in one hand, a simple, unadorned silver cross in the other. She shouldn't have been there, she'd realized, not because it was forbidden but because it was unreasonable. Truth be told, she should have been resting by then, the long hours of another day's healings having left her weary and tired. Her devotion to her faith, however, outweighed the pleas of her body, and so there Asia found herself, speaking to the Lord, giving thanks for the gifts he'd bestowed onto her long ago, a miracle that could heal all the body's woes._

 _She hadn't noticed when he'd first entered the room, focused on her next passage as she was, the pitter pattern of polished, but visibly worn, black shoes echoing within the chapel's confines. Robes of violet, light and dark, adorned his figure, in a loose yet fitting manner, hugging his form without sacrificing movement. A sash, of yet another purple's shade, hung loosely from his waste. Cross shaped tassels, as snow white as his hair, held his cloak together by the shoulders, preventing its slippage._

 _When she did realize his presence, it was his pendent she'd first noticed. Large and undoubtedly of gold, the plain crucifix rested upon his upper chest, a declaration of faith for all to see. Smaller, identical versions hung from his ears, swaying gently as he continued to step forward. A clerical collar fit comfortably around his neck, its metal glinting in the light. The ensemble, dark yet tasteful, reminded her greatly of the priests' white regalia, if but for the different colors and added layers._

 _He came to a stop at her right, left hand at his side while the other moved to his chest, lifting the aforementioned crucifix to his lips. A kiss and a murmured prayer, which she could not have said for sure, and his head turned to look down._

 _Amber eyes and a smiling face met emerald green and a parted mouth._

 _"_ _Are you the Holy Priestess?" He asked._

 _"_ _Yes." She replied_

 _"_ _I've been wanting to meet you." He said, his tall form lowering itself as he moved to sit, flipping his robes behind him so as to avoid getting them dirtied. Black pants wrapped around his legs._

 _"_ _My name's Asia, Asia Argento. Would you mind telling me yours father?"_

 _She wouldn't understand he humor in his voice until much later._

 _"_ _My name is Shirou. Shirou Kotomine."_

* * *

It was dark, where she lay, the cold stone beneath her back only adding to her fear. What little she still heard came both muted and meaningless, what little she could see, blurred and slowly blackening at the edges. She was afraid, to die, scared for her soul. Would she be allowed entry past Heaven's gates, or would she be cast down, into hell, her sins and crimes to great to forgive? She did not know, and so her dread endured.

She had tried to follow the ways of the light, the Lord's path. She did her best to pursue his teachings, treat her fellow man as if they were her brothers, guide them towards salvation. She knew she hadn't succeeded at every turn, had failed here and there along the way; her excommunication was proof of that, of the wickedness that must have stained her. 'Witch' they'd said. It hurt to remember.

As her consciousness slowly slipped away, she failed to hear the sounds of battle, steel echoing within the cellar's walls, nor did she see light shatter against shinning blades, black keys slaughtering those who deigned place themselves within their path, cleansing the unholy and slaying the heretical.

But when she felt herself lifted from that tainted floor, and when she saw that beautiful, golden holy light, she was certain, just for a moment, that Heaven had embraced her in eternity.

* * *

There wasn't much of the church left standing by the time they'd arrived, broken glass and shattered stone littering the unkept, overgrown grounds. A few load bearing pillars, spared from the carnage, held up what scarce standing walls remained. The roof, evidently, had caved in upon itself, crushing once sturdy pews under its weight and rendering an even greater chaotic look to the scene.

Rias advanced slowly among the debris, ever watchful for any traps or surprises the fallen angels may have left behind. Kiba frequently glanced around with uncertainty, eyes and head darting right and left in apprehension, a stark contrast to Akeno's own calm facade, a pleasant smile on her face. What made the latter's demeanor intimidating, rather than confusing, however, were the tale - tale sparks of lighting racing across her hands' fingertips, promising any foes she crossed oh so very delightful pain. She was shivering in anticipation.

The Gremory heiress spared a glance over her shoulder, looking back towards Issei in concern. Her peerage's newest pawn held an expression of both eagerness and worry. Koneko, on the other hand, showed nothing more than the trademark blank stare she'd come to expect from the rook.

It took only a few steps to reach what, she believed, had once been the church altar. It, much like the remains of the surrounding statues, had been reduced to little more than broken rock. A flight of stairs gave way to the darkness of the basement below, almost as if it were taunting the king and her servants to dare explore its depths.

"Akeno. Light."

Rias' single two word command broke the tense silence that'd held since reaching the church ground's entry gates.

"Yes President."

A flick of the hand, a magic circle, and a ball, bright and yellow, floated to their front, lighting the way.

They descended.

* * *

Kiba smelt it before the others: The air, thick and heavy, reeking of the unmistakable stench of blood, metallic and cold. The next thing he knew was that Issei had fallen to his knees and started to retch, body vainly attempting to cough up non - existent bile. He didn't let the action lower his opinion of their newest member; few did better when they too first experienced such things either.

Akeno's sphere broke off just before they reached the stairs' end, whizzing towards the cavernous room's center, as hinted by the echoing of their footsteps, flashing once brightly and casting light for all to see. A devil's vision was far superior to that of a human's; it didn't always suffice, however.

The scene before them was gruesome, to say the least, bodies of what, by all accounts, seemed to have once been stray exorcists, littered the ground. Rust brown stains, blood then spilled that had now dried, formed patches of color scattered around in an equally morbid fashion. The ex - church dogs' weapons, guns and light swords, lay inert upon the tiled floor. They had, given the evidence, clearly proven useless against their foe, whomever, or whatever, they may have been.

These details, however, weren't what troubled him the most.

"There is an enormous amount of holy energy within this room." He said.

The knight's words rang true. Even Issei, as newborn a devil as he was, could feel the… wrongness… which permeated the cellar in its entirety, triggering their instincts and warning them of a danger that, by all appearances, was long past.

"This isn't the work of a fallen angel." Spoke Rias, feet moving forward with Akeno at her side, steps taken in careful fashion so as to avoid walking on any of the bodies. "The aura I sense isn't one you would typically associate with dark light residues. It's far too pure."

"Angels?" Came Koneko's flat inquiry.

"No." Replied a grinning Akeno. "The level of purity isn't on that high a level, but it's close. Most likely some sort of holy artifact…" She glanced around the room, eyeing the gouges across the stone and wounds upon the dead, "Or a sword." she tacked on, sparring him a glance.

He frowned.

"Not a light sword then." He continued, pursuing her though process aloud for the others to hear. "An actual holy sword then, or, at the very least, some form of blade infused with holy energies."

But such a possibility begged the question; what nature of a blade was it and, more importantly, wielded by whom? One of their questions answers came more quickly than the other.

"What about this thing over here?" Came Issei's voice, his hand pointing towards a shinning object protruding from the ground, brown haired head tilted in its direction. Kiba's own blond covered one, in conjunction with Rias', Akeno's and Koneko's crimson, raven and snow white, turned to see what he was speaking of.

It was a blade, sharp, long, and thin, pierced deeply into the stone, with what resembled to be a blood red handle for a hilt. Its shimmering steel became a white glow as they approached, the light intensifying in it's brightness as they drew closer. The aura it gave off, however, was minor in comparison to that which filled the room. Unless a great many of its kind had been used in the area and, by lack of such similar blades nearby, it was unlikely, this was not the weapon they were looking for. It was, however, a lead, and so therefore an important piece of evidence that they would have to take care and bring back as they left. He knew that both Rias and Akeno would have the proper resources, back at the Occult Research Club's library, to figure out what it exactly was, for, to his surprise, he himself did not know.

A quick look and nod towards his king conveyed his ignorance to her in silence. She nodded back.

"Have it wrapped it in some cloth and bring it with us, I don't want anyone accidentally getting themselves injured. Judging by it's reaction, I'm quite certain that it isn't healthy to any of our kind."

"What about Asia?" Came Issei's voice, despair and shame now leaking through.

The President spared the boy a look of pity, blue staring into light brown.

"I'm sorry Issei."

Issei, for all his troubles, didn't answer.

* * *

Word Count: 1,712

* * *

Author's Notes:

Because I've diversified my media watchlist, because I've felt guilty for not posting, because I hate the hypocrisy of waiting for other authors to post when I myself don't, and because I have a few more items in the works. See you around folks.

P.S. - Enduring Retribution is going to undergo a slight rewrite. I've read your constructive criticisms and reread my work and by God some parts are ridiculous. Thank you all for your support.

Cover image attributed to Sunday31.


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